Taste of Violence
by The Wykkyd
Summary: This isn't a teenage love-story. We're not standing in the rain, professing our love and sucking face. No, this is violent. Compared to a romance movie, this is hardcore porn...not that I was supposed to know anything about that.


**Warning**: This is a T rated one shot for violence and some sexual behavior, which happens to be between two boys. Take note, and read on only if you're okay with that. I don't want any comments about how gross it is that two guys are capable of making out with each other, and that I exploited that in this story. Thanks.

**A/N**: Some of you may find this story or title familiar, and that's because, _yes, _this has been posted here before. However, I re-wrote it tonight, and the story is different enough from the original rough-draft that I'm uploading it as a new story, and then deleting the original.

So, here's the edited and enhanced version of one my favorite pieces that I've written on this site. Enjoy.

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**Taste Of Violence**

My head twisted to the right as his fist collided with my jaw, the force of the blow powerful enough to send me stumbling backwards for a moment. Quick reflexes brought my attention back to my opponent, and within seconds I had retaliated. My knuckles slammed into the base of his neck, hitting a nerve center. A gasp of pain emitted from his mouth. In a last-ditch effort to bring me to the ground he aimed to kick my legs from under me; the only problem was I knew that was going to be his next move. With little effort I twisted around and slammed the heel of my boot into the side of his right knee. He fell with a choked cry, his hand moving to his knee to make sure I hadn't broken it. I was distracted by the pain in his breathing, and didn't expect his heel to crash into the side of my thigh just above my knee. Honestly, I didn't think a move like that was even _possible _from the ground. I staggered to catch my balance, quickly loosing feeling in my left leg as nerves spasmed and completely lost it. Fuck.

And I'm not one to swear.

It had started out a normal night. Things have been stressful around Jump City lately, and I think the last time I had a solid six hours off was last month sometime. All the Titans have been tense. Raven is meditating more than she normally does, Starfire's spirits are taking a hit for the worse, Beast Boy's energy is creeping to a flat-line, and Cyborg spends all his free time alone, working on some gadget or another. I've started spending time on the streets, walking or running to nowhere, getting myself lost and then finding my way back to the tower. The simple action of moving had a way of calming me that nothing else did. Familiar streets of Jump City often looked completely different when I wasn't dressed in red, green, and yellow. Tonight, like the last thirty or so nights, had started out uneventful as I began walking away from the tower. My hands were shoved into my pockets, head down so my eyes could watch my own feet shuffle along the pavement still warm from the day's heat. Only my ears were alert to the sound of running footsteps, a weapon being drawn, or whispers hidden by the shadows all around me.

One minute I had been strolling along, my exhausted and sore legs barely managing to drag my feet along, and the next my face was slammed into the ground. A heavy flow of blood began flowing from my nose, which had taken about fifty percent of the impact being that I literally _landed_ on it. I guess I wasn't as alert as I thought. Most people would have started screaming for help around this point, or start running—provided they could get up. But you know, this is me we're talking about. First off, there was no one around to help if I needed it in the first place, and I don't think I've ever run away from a fight in my entire life.

A flurry of fists and feet followed, my strikes landing on my attacker as often as his landed on me, despite my exhaustion and his enthusiasm. My initial reaction about my attacker's identity was along the lines of "SLADE!", but Raven's been telling me I'm obsessed and need to chill out on that issue. So I reconsidered. The _boy_, and it was a boy because he was stronger than a girl but not as strong as Slade, was probably about my age, if not a year or two older, but quite a bit taller than me. I played with the idea of a gang kid for a millisecond or so as I put my fist into his mouth, but ruled it out. He approached me too quietly for a gang member, and he fought just a _bit_ too smoothly for that. Thinking along the same lines, he hadn't learned how to fight in a studio wearing a white uniform either. This was no druggie or drunk—too coordinated—and I wasn't getting any serious Supervillain vibes from him. He had drawn no weapons against me, said nothing, and attacked me completely unproved. I put my bets on an eighteen or nineteen-year-old 'upper class' street kid, small time vandal, thief, cocky adrenaline -junkie.

And then it hit me. _Duh_. This guy fought ruthlessly, recklessly, cut-throat, and to-to-point. Street-fighter style for the most part, but with a characteristic touch of class. Hello, Red X, nice to see you too.

But there were pieces of the puzzle missing. Where were the haughty, provocative comments? And X wasn't wearing the outfit I created (and he _stole, _thank you very much), opting for a more casual ensemble: torn jeans and a black hoodie with the hood drawn up just enough that the shadows covered his face and prevented an I.D. If this truly was Red X, though, that made sense, although that was about the only thing that _did _make sense.

After sending each other to the ground, we both lay still for a moment. His knee would still be throbbing no doubt, probably wouldn't even hold weight, and my leg wasn't showing many signs of life. The sensation didn't last long and I rolled onto my stomach, standing up as much as my left leg would allow before falling onto the boy's chest. Air rushed from his mouth as the weight of my knees winded him. I whipped my staff from my back pocket and laid it gently against his throat; it was the first chance I'd had to draw a weapon since he jumped me. Silence played out, and I realized I didn't know what to say. If I had been with the team or even been playing the role of Robin, I could have thrown a lame one-liner around. But at this point in the game, I _wasn't _Robin just as he wasn't Red X. We were two nameless kids, not a villain and a hero. I was essentially Dick Grayson wearing colored contacts right now. Hopefully.

"Who are you?" I asked. It was a completely rhetorical question. By this point, I would have bet my life on this kid being Red X. A choked laugh erupted from my attacker, bouncing me slightly as I was still kneeling on his chest.

"I thought you knew me better than that, _Robin_," a disgustingly recognizable voice said. Okay, no longer nameless. I would be Robin, and he would be Red X. Part of me was a little disappointed, but the other part of my was angry. A dose of adrenaline rushed through my veins as I prepared for the last half of this fight. There was a lot at stake here all of a sudden: he knew what I looked like without my mask on.

My left hand pressed the staff harder into his throat as my right pushed his hood fully off his face. I half expected to see a full face mask with a red 'X' printed on it, but a human face stared back at me. It seemed too easy, but here I was, kneeling on Red X's chest and looking into his eyes. X's face was thin and angular, that much I knew from seeing him masked before this encounter, but now I could pick out details. He had a rugged, handsome quality about him. His skin was smooth and tanned, hair straight and falling into his eyes in black strands, although the roots were brown. Dark eye lashes framed wide brown eyes that reflected my own, and full lips formed a smirk. I glared at him. We were stuck in neutral: I didn't have anything on him that he didn't have on me.

"I make a point of not getting too friendly with people like you," I quipped, increasing pressure on his chest. I felt him struggle for air under my weight, and a strangled breath left his lungs. I put a bit more pressure on him.

"Sure, kid. Let's just ignore your little Slade obsession, and the fact that you practically _created _me," the crook said, amusement in his voice. I fought back anger and frustration, knowing it would do me no good in this situation. He was trying to bait me and I wasn't about to let him win.

"There's a difference between being_ friendly_ and informed," I snapped, brushing his snide remark off. Red X let out a wheezing laugh and my knees shook on top of his chest. The thief broke off into coughs seconds later, and I let my weight up just a bit, assuming I had cracked a few of his ribs. Not like he had been any kinder to me: my nose felt thoroughly broken. "What were you trying to do tonight?" I asked, too curious to wait any longer. Not that I expected an honest answer or anything. He shrugged.

"Relieve myself of boredom. And it's kinda fun to watch you go through these little patterns of self-restraint," Red X said. I resisted the urge to break his jaw, but my free hand clenched into a fist with the effort it took. His eyes lit up as he noticed this: point made.

"Either you're a sadist or a moron," I exclaimed with a forced exhale. He laughed again, and this time I _did _slam my fist into his jaw. The movement made me vulnerable, my side exposed and undefended because my left hand was still holding the bo staff against his throat. I felt the sharp sting of a blade digging into my skin, and couldn't help the hiss of pain that slipped through my lips. I lifted my staff and smashed the end of it into the thief's collar bone while my free hand made a grab for the knife that he held in his left hand. I sent it skittering away from us, although the blade caught my palm, leaving a thin red line that started to bleed. I hated cutting my hands. It hurt like hell, took ages to heal, and for the moment would not help my grip on my staff. Suddenly I was tossed from his chest with a forceful shove, and his heavy boot crashed into my chest. I slid backwards, scrapping against the pavement. My staff went flying with another well-aimed kick from Red X, and I forced myself to get to my feet. We squared off, and I jumped back in with the first move.

Sometime during our arsenal of punches and kicks I began to relax, incorporating my daily warm-up routines into our fight. My movements became more fluid and I found myself glad for the chance to try and beat the shit out of someone without my conscience kicking in. Sure, I was annoyed with him because he had that effect on me, but fights with Red X had always been...well, enjoyable. He was the perfect opponent: I was the better fighter of the two of us, and more nimble, but he was taller and stronger, and our fighting styles clashed enough to leave gaps where the other could move in. I suppose I could say that smashing my fist into his face was a stress-reliever because I knew we were evenly matched.

His right fist came into the air and I spun out of the way, suddenly finding myself face-to-face with the alley wall. I ducked in anticipation of his next move and turned in time to see him drop his fist to my level; I bent my knees to force my shoulder into his hip. As X stumbled, I straightened and launched myself at him, taking both of us to the ground as I tried to get my bearings quickly enough to hit him in the stomach. But he had a hold on my shoulders before I could do so, and I was flipped over and slammed backwards into the wall, my head knocking violently against the brick. I moaned, my vision hijacked by black spots. It gave him enough time to sit on my legs and force my hands above my head. I held my head still, blinking to try and clear my vision.

I _still _couldn't see straight a moment later when a breathy laugh reached my ears, and something touched my lips. I didn't realize until a good five seconds later that Red X was _kissing _me. I jerked my head to the side, spitting saliva and blood out of my mouth.

"What the _hell _are you doing?" I exclaimed, my shock obvious and unconcealed. My self control isn't that established. The thief laughed again, that _annoying chuckle_, and I struggled against hands that bound mine. But our position left me all but helpless, and this was one instance where my ability and speedy were useless against his leverage and strength.

"Mmm...what does it look like? Or more like, what does it _feel _like?" Red X said, his lips brushing the rim of my ear. I shivered despite myself as his lips moved across my jaw, hot breath crossing my cheek. I started struggling again as his lips captured mine, and a number of curses flew through my head. How had I let him pin me down like this? I squeezed my eyes shut—trying to block out what was happening. The noble attempt wasn't working.

Red X pulled away for a moment and stared at me, and I managed to return the gaze, fighting off a blush as I did so. I didn't really have time for this kind of thing in a...normal situation, so it was new to me. Uncomfortably, but exhilaratingly new. Absentmindedly, and without any conscious agreement on_ my _part, I came to the conclusion that Red X was a very, _very_ handsome boy. In the beginning of this whole ordeal, when I first saw his face, I could admit a certain handsome quality about him, sure. But that was just stating a fact. It's like noticing that the girl walking down the street is pretty—an observation, but nothing life-changing. It's not like you take that to heart and apply it to yourself.

But this...this wasn't the same as a statement. I was admitting that Red X was handsome, okay, _hot_, in _context_. It was a little too personal for me; all of a sudden the game had turned a very different direction. I mean, I was pretty sure that I wasn't allowed to make out with Red X. Actually, I was damn positive I wasn't supposed to make out with him. One, he's a guy. Boy. Male. And so am I. And then, he's a total kleptomaniac. Thief. Villain. Bad guy. I'm a _hero_. Good guy. And then there's always the fact that we had spent the last fifteen minutes beating the shit out of each other.

"You know, birdie," Red X said, his grey eyes lighting up in amusement, "you're kinda cute without your mask." I snarled, my lips curling into a sneer automatically.

"Let me go, X," I demanded. He cocked his head as if considering it, but I knew that he didn't even register what I had asked of him. It was polite of him to pretend, though. I guess. I mean, it wasn't like I expected him to release me and forget the whole thing, but I figured I could always ask.

"Uh...no. Sorry," he answered. He swooped forward again, this time kissing me with more force, his tongue flicking out to run over my lips. Slowly the motion convinced me to return the kiss, and my lips started moving under his even as my brain sending off alarm bells. The really loud kind. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered that I had asked Starfire to go out with me sometime last week, and that made about a million and_ one _reasons why I should not be doing this, but it was very, very hard to ignore Red X's tongue that was now _in _my mouth, coaxing my own tongue into action. One of us moaned, although I couldn't tell if it was a pained moan or an aroused one (I'm betting on the former because that saves face), and I felt the thief release my hands and place his hands on my chest, still pinning me to the wall. I let my hands rest on either side of his head, running through his hair, because that would...let me slam his head into the wall behind me..if I moved my own head out of the way...yes. That was why I was running my hands through his hair, pulling him closer and kissing back with more force. Uh huh. Totally.

He tasted like blood, but that might have been my blood as well, as my nose was still bleeding with a passion. Red X's left hand moved to my face, his fingers ghosting over my jaw to press against the wall behind my head. He pushed himself off my lap for a moment and I straightened my back from the slouched position I had been in previously. The thief settled on my hips once more, kissing me again and using his height to tilt my head upward. His teeth bit my lower lip hard, but not hard enough to break skin, and I was forced to break away for air as I couldn't breathe through my nose. He waited for a moment until had a taken a few gasping breaths, and then attacked me again. I fought his tongue this time, hating the conflict raging inside my head. I loved this: doing something that was _so _forbidden to me. But the little nagging angel on my shoulder kept pointing that it was, indeed, _forbidden_. As in, I _should not do this. _

But don't get me wrong. This isn't the teenage love-story, not by a long-shot. We're not standing in the rain, tears running down our faces as we try and get through some dramatic tragedy by sucking face. No, this was violent. Compared to a romance movie, this was hardcore porn...not that I'm supposed to know anything about that.

I had a ratio of blood to saliva in my mouth that was around seventy-thirty, and the overflow of fluid ended up mixing with X's as his blood was pushed into my mouth. Every time I parted my lips slightly I could feel the mixture running down my chin and dripping onto my jacket. We were biting each other's lips as much as sucking on them, and our hands raked through hair, pulling on it harshly in order to grind our lips closer to each other. Fire shot through my nose every time Red X brushed it with his own nose or cheek, and moans of pain accompanied our harsh breathing. But because this wasn't supposed to be romantic, or even_ caring, _the taste of blood in my mouth and my aching body made the moment what it was. There was passion between us, but not the kind of passion most people really want to experience. I was trying to hurt him as much as I found myself actually kissing him, and I knew by the fresh pain I was feeling he was doing the same to me. Our passion was only that of two fighters.

I clamped down on his upper lip, drawing fresh blood, and Red X grunted, opening his mouth. I foolishly let my tongue fight its way into his mouth, and he bit down. My eyes shot open—when had I closed them?—and more blood filled my mouth, spilling out onto my chin. We both pulled away then, and I spat a mouthful of coppery fluid onto the ground. We sat there for another minute, our hands still clutching the other's head and heavy breathing the only noise between us. Red X had blood smeared all over his face now, from my mouth and nose, and a good amount of it in his hair from the cut on my hand, but his eyes shone with a different light than they had before. I assumed I looked similar, with blood running from my mouth and nose and smeared by his lips and hands to other areas of my face.

Slowly he got to his knees and then stood up, favoring the leg I hadn't kicked earlier, and limped over to where his knife lay on the ground. I stood as well, spitting more blood out of my mouth and leaning over, pinching the bridge of my nose and exhaling through it to clear extra blood out. Raven hates it when I do that. Red X walked back over to me and I tensed, ready to dodge a move, but he stopped when our chests were pressed together, just looking into my eyes. I met his gaze with a glare and he smirked, moving around me in swift, graceful steps.

"I'm sure I'll see you around, Robin," he whispered into my ear, the heat from his body felt even through my jacket. Before he walked away he shoved my back, but I spun around in time to slam my foot into his side, making him stumble for a half-second until he caught himself. I smirked, content that I had made the last move. Red X's laughter echoed through the alley and I was left alone a moment later, losing track of him as he moved into the shadows.

My bo staff was lying several yards away, glinting dully in the half-light. I shuffled over to it and picked it up, inhaling as deeply as possible to breath through pain. I was amazed that Red X was about to walk away like that, and for a moment I wondered if my blows had any effect on him whatsoever, but that was a stupid idea. He would be limping for a day or so now, and he looked as much a wreck as I did.

With my staff back in my pocket, I began my way back to the tower in considerably different condition than I had left in. My nose was starting to swell, blood was _soaking _my shirt and jacket, I was a little light-headed, my lips and tongue were swollen and bleeding, and I could feel that my jaw was beginning to bruise—along with just about every other body plane. I think he bit me...which means I'm going to have bite marks on my jaw...and that's just _not _going to look good. I mean, not that it'll look worse than me stumbling into the tower covered in Red X's blood (not that I'm _ever _going to let my team know it's _his), _and saliva, if you want to get really specific. At the moment, I was willing to let the specifics slide.

Even as the adrenaline wore off I remained painfully alert and aware of my surroundings. If anyone was going to come within fifty yards of me I was going to know, because I was in serious trouble if I was attacked for a second time tonight, considering my condition. Half-way to the tower I started seeing flashes of movement peripherally. Panic wouldn't set in unless someone like Slade showed up, and I was honestly at the point where I think I'd just collapse with my hands over my head if something like that happened. I never saw a face, or even a color, just this movement in the shadows. Someone was there.

The city buildings and allies go almost up to the tower, with only a short driveway where I would uncovered and out of the shadows. It wasn't until my follower and I got to this point that I saw anything identifying. A red blur spun through the shadows, and I heard the distinct flapping noise that a cape like my own made when whipped through the air.

If he's going to randomly attack me on my walk, beat the crap out of me, and then make out with me for ten minutes, the least he could is walk me home, I guess. I mean, 'walk me home' in the Red X sorta way.

How chivalrous, Mr. X.

This has been completely re-written from the original vision, which was in many ways a rough draft of a free-write. An entertaining drabble with my two favorite TT characters. I definitely didn't have time to edit this tonight (I have about five essays to write and turn in before this Friday, but I needed a break. Now it's back to education differences in low and high-income schools...sigh. I'd much rather play with this story some more...I am _so _tired.

Anyway, leave a comment if you feel so inclined. I would love it!

Wykkyd


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